


The Biggest What-If

by NARKOTIKA



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Human, Baby!Isaac, Domestic Fluff, FTM Stiles Stilinski, Falling In Love, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Kid!Jackson, M/M, Magical Accidents, Nurse Stiles, Nursing, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Sexual Content, Time Travel, blastfromthepast!Stiles, but not that kind of nurse, but not the medical kind, headoverheels!Derek, tween!Erica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 00:59:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6931468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NARKOTIKA/pseuds/NARKOTIKA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where I come from, electricity would be called magic,” Stiles says during Sunday dinner.</p><p>“Yeah,” Jackson says, “but where we come from, we have lights at night.”</p><p>“We do, too.” Stiles reaches for his sixth bread roll. “They are called stars and they are quite romantic.”</p><p>-0-</p><p>Or the one where Stiles is magically transported from Ancient Rome to the modern day and Derek ends up falling more than a little bit in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Biggest What-If

**Author's Note:**

> Age range:
> 
> Isaac = 4 months  
> Jackson = 9  
> Erica = 12  
> Cora = 15  
> Scott = 18  
> Stiles = 18  
> Derek = 21  
> Lydia = 24  
> Laura = 26

Jackson is the first to catch sight of the omega.

He’s a fragile-looking thing, lying atop the large tree stump in nothing but a flimsy white shift, skin so starkly pale, practically glowing against the dark shadows of the forest. There’s a faint fog settled around him, dawn just beginning to break, warm slashes of light passing through the thickness of the trees and washing over the omega’s limp form.

“Is it an angel?” Jackson whispers, eyes wide. Derek holds his arm out, gesturing for Jackson to stand back, as he cautiously comes around to get a better look, and, boy, if Jackson thought the omega looked angelic from a distance, Derek wonders what his little brother is thinking now.

The omega suddenly stirs, eyes lazily blinking open, and Derek stops dead in his tracks as soft, amber eyes meet his. Derek’s heart starts racing as the boy rises, his movements unhurried and soft, stepping down into the bed of dried leaves, slowly, steadily, approaching Derek. It feels likes a lifetime passes as the omega draws closer, sluggishly raising a pale hand, reaching for Derek with his head inclined, tilted like a curious child, doe eyes boring into Derek's as if he recognizes something in the alpha standing before him. _Say something,_ Derek thinks to himself, _Come on, you idiot_. But before he can even gather his thoughts enough to form a sentence, the omega is but a foot away, and—fainting.

Naturally, Derek’s arms reach out and catch him in time, holding fast. He gentles his grip, afraid the milky skin under his rough hands might bruise at the slightest touch. Derek is distantly aware of Jackson running up and crouching down beside him, but all he can focus on is the soft line of the omega’s upturned nose and the way those dark lashes fan out against the gentle slopes of those speckled cheeks.

“Derek?” Jackson says. “What’re we gonna do with him?” Derek’s brows draw together and he makes a hasty decision, looping his arms under the omega’s limp form, lifting him up. He glances down at his brother.

“Don’t tell Mom.”

 

✽✽✽

 

Erica is in her pajamas, mid-sentence with someone on the phone, feet thrown up onto the coffee table when they walk through the front door. There’s a tense pause in which everyone waits for someone to react—Erica just staring as Derek awkwardly stands there in the foyer, carrying the passed out omega in his arms, Jackson holding the door open. Then Erica bolts upright with a short but very deadly, “I’m telling Mom.”

There’s a frantic scramble for Erica’s phone as Jackson lunges over the table and starts wrestling the device out of her hands. Cora comes in just as he yanks on Erica’s ponytail.

“What the hell?” she shouts. Erica resumes her gnawing on Jackson’s ear. Cora turns her questioning eyes on Derek, then down to the figure in his arms, and immediately replicates the face Erica made, followed by another threat of, “Mom! I’m telling Mom!”

And then, Laura conveniently arrives.

“No one is telling Mom anything,” she says, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, marching into the room to fling Erica and Jackson apart. “On the couch,” she directs Derek. He quickly complies, pushing past a glowering Cora. Jackson comes and kneels beside the omega, the quarrel with his sister momentarily forgotten. Laura stands at the end of the sofa, arms crossed, taking in the sight before her.

“Where’d you find him?”

“The clearing with the old tree,” Jackson supplies.

Erica crouches down beside her brother. “Did he fall asleep? What was he even doing out there?”

“He’s not cold," Derek says. "He couldn't have been there long.”

“He doesn’t have shoes,” Cora adds, arms crossed.

Erica wrinkles her nose. “What’s he wearing?”

Laura chews on her thumb, brows drawn together.

“He was just-” Derek shrugs, unable to look anywhere else _“-there.”_

“Look!” Jackson whisper-shouts, eyes trained on the omega’s fluttering eyelids. Cora’s curiosity gets the better of her, and soon she’s crouching right next to her siblings, peering closely down at the boy. Derek can’t help but draw closer, too, stepping up beside Laura at the end of the couch.

The omega first makes eye contact with Jackson, who in turn proceeds to flush a bright shade of red. When the boy’s steady gaze shifts to Derek, his eyes flicker, never straying, and he breathes one word— _“Alpha.”_

He passes out again.

 

✽✽✽

 

Laura paces, back and forth, back and forth, from the coffee table to the entryway, over and over, anxiously muttering under her breath.

The omega gains consciousness again less than five minutes later, eyes fluttering open, and everyone regroups at the first sound of surprise that escapes him. Jackson helps him into a sitting position, fluffing a pillow and making sure he’s comfortable.

Laura’s face is a mask of seriousness as she settles in front of the boy. “Welcome back, sleeping beauty. You’ve had quite a morning.” The omega says nothing. “Can you tell me your name?” Nothing. “Well, I’m Laura Hale. My brothers found you on our property, in the woods outside our home. Can you tell me what you were doing out there?”

The omega’s eyes are big, unshed with tears, and Derek, not for the first time, is reminded of Bambi. “I...I cannot recall,” the omega whispers, softly, voice fractured with welled up emotion and the faintest trace of an accent. “One moment, I run in the field, and in next, I wake in the forest.”

Laura and Derek share a look. Again: “What’s your name?”

“I am called Stiles," the omega says. “Where am I?”

“You’re in Beacon Hills,” Laura replies. Stiles looks perplexed. “Beacon County. Forty-minute drive from the coast.” The omega's confusion only grows. “California, dude, c’mon.” The omega looks on the verge of a breakdown. “The United States of America?”

“Apologies,” Stiles says, eyes beginning to wander over the furniture, taking in his surroundings for the first time. Derek worries that he’ll pass out again. “I know not where this is. I hail from Capua, House Virius. Alpha Dominus will be expecting me home soon.”

Cora turns around and starts softly banging her forehead against the door frame. “What. The. Fuck,” she groans between thuds, and Derek shoots her a look.

Stiles’ eyes flit around the room, and, as if in a trance, he begins wandering around, fingers tracing over the furniture, along the spines of the books shelved up against the wall, dancing across the cool glass of the windows. Laura purses her lips, seconds dragging by as she digests all of it. “Yeah, we’re definitely telling Mom. I’m not sure this is something I want to handle.”

“Laura-”

“Did you not just witness this?” she turns away from Stiles, hands up in surrender. “Shit’s fuckin’ weird, man. I’m out.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do, take him down to the station? He looks like he’s wandered off a movie set.”

Laura shrugs, turning on her heel. “Not my problem, pal.”

“Watch him,” Derek tells Cora, following Laura out. “You’re being extremely unhelpful. _You’re_ the deputy here. Not me.”

Laura smirks, turning in to the kitchen. “And why should I do this for you?”

“Because it’s your job.”

Laura looks unimpressed.

Derek places his hands on the counter. “I never ask you for anything.”

Laura fills herself a glass of milk. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll call Mom and talk to her on your behalf. Under one condition.”

Derek waits for it.

“You’ll take those dancing lessons for my wedding.”

A sigh.

“Do we have a deal?” she asks, sticking a hand out, all smug smiles and milk mustaches.

Derek begrudgingly shakes on it.

 

✽✽✽

 

“I thought I told you to watch him,” Derek mutters to Cora, already turning back down the hall to search out the house.

“Well, I didn’t think I needed to anymore,” Cora sighs, following after him.

Derek raises a brow.

“Scott’s with him.”

Derek doesn’t have the time to panic because he’s already racing up the stairs, following the sound of Isaac’s wails to Laura’s bedroom, where he finds Stiles hovering over the flailing baby, and Derek doesn’t know what it is exactly that makes him give pause, but he holds himself still, lets Stiles pull Isaac up into his arms.

The omega cradles the baby, making soothing noises, rocking his arms gently back and forth, Scott sitting across from him, cowlicked hair and all, pleasantly (already) railing on about Allison Argent without a care in the world.

Erica decides he’s droned on long enough and interrupts him. “Stiles,” she says, “tell me more about-” she cuts herself off, frowning up at him, trying to recall the name.

“Capua.”

“That.”

Stiles gazes down at Isaac a moment longer before answering, “I’ve seen many wonderful places, but none more than Capua. Alpha Dominus keeps kind company, feeds me well, and lets me bathe often. Domina has had a beautiful child, with curls like this-” he strokes the top of Isaac’s fuzzy head, smiling, a gesture so bright and heart-stopping that Derek has to take an extra moment to gather himself before interjecting.

“Breakfast is ready,” he announces, throwing out a single stern look, holding the door wide open, as if his siblings can’t already take the hint. He turns back to Stiles once they’ve all left, straightening his face into a mask of indifference, hands behind his back.

“You’re good at that.”

That’s not what he wanted to say.

Stiles has his back turned to him, though, so he pauses to clear his throat and begin again.

“I take it you’ve taken care of infants before.”

“Yes,” Stiles says, hand moving over the baby, and Derek frowns, unable to see what he’s doing. “I’m a nurse.”

“Ah.” _Now we’re getting somewhere,_ Derek thinks, and then Stiles turns around. _“Ah!”_

Derek covers his eyes, feeling his face flush, and now he’s the one that turns, putting his back to the omega. “What are you _doing?”_

“The child is hungry.”

“That’s what the formula is for!”

“Formula? Is this the place from which you hail?”

“No! Formula as in milk! Hale is in _Hale_ , as in _we are the Hales!”_

“You’re upset with me.”

Derek forces himself to face the omega once more, but he stubbornly keeps shielding his eyes. “I’m not upset, this is just-” he pulls his hand away, and-

_Nope._

“-weird,” he finishes anticlimactically, firmly training his eyes on the wall over Stiles’ head. “It’s not everyday that a stranger passes out on your property, wakes up on your couch, and starts breastfeeding your nephew.”

Stiles huffs. “So the child isn’t even the successor of your name.”

Derek finally meets the omega’s eyes, completely lost. “The baby is Laura’s. He’s named after our late father.”

“I meant only that he isn’t heir to your house.”

Derek sighs. “Laura’s the oldest.”

“Yes, but she isn’t the alpha,” Stiles says, reclining into the armchair by the window. He smiles prettily. “You are.”

 

✽✽✽

 

They’ve just returned back downstairs when the phone decides to ring and, of course, Stiles starts freaking out.

“Kill it! Kill it!” Stiles yells, jumping up, pointing at the landline and screeching like he’s seen a mouse. Jackson and Erica huddle by the doorway, giggling into their hands as Derek weathers Stiles’ efforts to climb him like a cat up a tree, clinging like his life depends on it. “Oh, please, Alpha! Do something!”

Derek peels Stiles off and strains for the phone. He quickly hits the answer button, putting it to his ear, and Stiles calms down somewhat when the ringing comes to an abrupt halt.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Derek, is Laura there?”

Derek gestures for Jackson to fetch their sister. “Hey, Lydia. She just got done with breakfast.”

“What is he doing?” Stiles asks, peeking out from behind Scott. “Why is he talking at it?”

“Who’s that?” Lydia asks on the other end.

“No one.” Derek pinches the bridge of his nose.

“He’s talking to Lydia,” Cora says, biting into an apple. “She and Laura are getting married.”

“Where is she? Why can’t I hear her? Why can’t I see her?” Stiles asks, then lower: “Is she... _magic?”_

Jackson returns with Laura, and the foyer is beginning to feel more than a little claustrophobic for Derek, so he quickly hands Lydia off to her. “It’s not magic. It’s called a phone,” Jackson informs Stiles.

“A...phone?”

“A telephone.”

“Telly-phone.”

Derek shares a look with Laura, and snatches up his car keys. “Come on,” he says, nodding Stiles toward the front door. “You’ll have plenty of time to be acquainted with those in a minute.”

 

✽✽✽

 

“Well, he’s not from around here, I can guarantee that much,” Talia says, folding up her glasses as she seats herself on the edge of her desk, sheriff’s badge glinting in the sunlight. Fingerprints, names, all a dead end. Talia doesn’t take her eyes off Stiles, who, after nearly three servings, can’t stop wolfing down the curly fries in his lap.

“No kidding?” Derek dryly remarks.

“No kidding.” Talia twists her mouth to the side. “But I think it’s time we start asking _when_ he’s from.”

Derek sharply looks up. “You can’t be serious.”

Talia already has the phone to her ear before he can get another word in. “Could be brain damage, trauma of some sort. God only knows, the poor kid. Take him down to the hospital, have Melissa check him out.”

“Do you have any idea how long it took me just to get him into the car?”

Talia waves him off. “Nothing you can’t handle, my sweet boy.”

 

✽✽✽

 

After another long drive, several distractions, and multiple rounds of testing, Melissa declares Stiles as healthy as can be.

“He’s perfectly fine, Derek,” Melissa says for the hundredth time.

“Does _that-”_ Derek gestures at a confused Stiles fumbling with a juice box straw “-look _fine?”_

“He’s not even in our records, Derek,” Melissa says gently. “You’re not going to find answers here.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “What do I do?”

Melissa’s brows pinch together, and she looks over at the omega. “May I suggest a new outfit?”

Derek follows her gaze. “That’d probably be best for now.”

She nods and pats his arm. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Derek smiles down at her. “We’ll be there.”

 

✽✽✽

 

Stiles not only ends up staying for dinner, but he ends up staying the night. He gets the guest room, but somehow wanders his way into Derek’s bed in the early morning without Derek even noticing.

That is, until his phone starts ringing once more and they are both startled out of bed, for two very different reasons.

“Make it stop! Oh, it’s awful!” Stiles cries, throwing one of Derek’s pillows at the nightstand.

Derek pushes himself back against the wall, staring at Stiles from the other side of the room until the phone goes silent.

“How’d you get in here?”

“Alpha needed me,” Stiles says simply, standing there in one of Derek’s shirts, a pair of his boxers, both too large for his lithe frame, and Derek pushes away the thought that says he likes it.

“I’m not your alpha.”

Stiles looks taken aback. “Of course you are.”

Derek shoves on a pair of sweats. “I’m not. And you need to learn some boundaries.”

“You’re upset.”

“I’m-”

He stares at the omega, trying to decide on the right word, and when he can’t, he simply turns and walks out, heading for the shower. Maybe a splash of water will clear his head.

 

✽✽✽

 

When Alpha leaves, the telephone begins screaming again, so Stiles decides to be brave and talk to it, putting it to the side of his head like he saw Alpha do.

“Hey, it’s Boyd-”

The voice is right in his ear, and Stiles jumps back, dropping the telephone, frightened, and it makes a loud cracking noise as it connects with the floor. Alpha rushes back into the room, as large as he was only moments before, still as imposing, just as grouchy, but looking ready to punish whatever has threatened Stiles this time.

“Your telephone!” Stiles cries. “Your friend Boyd is in it!”

Derek looks at Stiles, then down at his telephone, then back at Stiles.

He doesn’t even bother picking it up before he turns and leaves again.

 

✽✽✽

 

For some reason, Stiles ends up staying another night. And another. And another. And then a week has passed and he’s become a permanent fixture in the house, and life before him, funny enough, seems impossible to imagine now.

“Where I come from, electricity would be called magic,” Stiles says during Sunday dinner.

“Yeah,” Jackson says, “but where we come from, we have lights at night.”

“We do, too.” Stiles reaches for his sixth bread roll. “They are called stars and they are quite romantic.”

“If you’re only eighteen, how are you able to feed a baby?” Erica asks him, and Derek chokes on his beer.

_“Erica.”_

“I do not mind,” Stiles says, finally wearing something that isn’t Derek’s, a nice summery, white dress that looks nice on him, though it makes it hard for Derek to focus on his meal.

“It was my purpose,” Stiles tells Erica, serious and nostalgic. “Alpha Dominus needed someone to feed his children, and so he clothed me, made me a bed, put food in me, and he said, ‘I give you my home as if it were your own, and when my wife brings my son into the world, I’d like you to give him the strength he needs to grow into a man.’ It is a very well-respected trade, wet nursing.”

Half the people at the table, if they weren’t before, now blush, and if Derek wasn’t so used to Stiles whispering similar stories into his ear when the omega sneaks into his bed in the dead of the night, he might have just been one of them.

 

✽✽✽

 

Stiles has grown a habit.

He likes to tilt his head _just_ so, sometimes.

He likes to tease Derek.

Or maybe it’s just Derek.

It’s something he does often, offering his neck. Too much, maybe. Derek can’t bring himself to hate it.

He’s come to terms with it.

Stiles will be the death of him.

 

✽✽✽

 

“I do not like this,” Stiles says, frowning, watching the instructor and his partner as they glide effortlessly across the dance floor.

“Neither do I,” Derek replies, taking the omega’s hand. “But you’re the one that got me into this mess.”

 

✽✽✽

 

Derek finds Stiles with Erica a month down the road, practicing with her handy flashcards she so loves to help him with.

She lifts a card. “Google,” Stiles says, sharp and laser-focused. Another card. “Burrito.” Another card. “Beyoncé.” Another. “Baseball.” Erica flashes a picture of Derek. _“Alpha.”_ She giggles. She loves it when Stiles calls Derek that.

“What was your old alpha like?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I’ve not had one.”

“What about-” Erica tilts her head “-the other guy?”

“Alpha Dominus,” Stiles whispers, then shakes his head again. “That’s different. I’ve not had a...beau.” He blushes, suddenly.

“You like my brother?”

Stiles smiles. “He’s so... _big.”_

Erica grins back at him. “That’s what she said.”

Stiles furrows his brows. "Who is she and why does she keep saying these things?”

Erica throws her head back, pigtails flying, and nearly rolls all the way off her bed in a fit of laughter.

 

✽✽✽

 

They have their first fight at the diner, of all places.

It’s a stupid fight, starting out over something trivial and meaningless until it begins spiraling into something Derek can’t control. It’s sharp and biting and only scratches the surface until Derek opens his stupid mouth and says, “Well, you’re fucking crazy!”

Stiles clicks his mouth shut so fast that it makes Derek wince at his own words.

“I am not crazy,” Stiles says slowly. Derek looks at the omega and he hates himself for making it sound like an insult, like something to be ashamed of, like it suddenly makes anything Stiles says or does without meaning or value. “I may sound mad, in your world. I would feel the same if I were you. But I am not crazy.” Stiles swallows past his emotion, and Derek can see the tears he’s suddenly fighting to hold back. “It’s hurts that you wouldn’t believe me.”

Derek has to chase after him, out of the restaurant, all the way down the block, calling out for him repeatedly until Stiles grows tired enough of hearing his own name shouted into the cold night air that he stops, at last, to face the alpha.

“I don’t know what came over me,” Derek says, not even bothering to filter himself, they’ve come too far for that. “It’s just kind of scary.”

Stiles doesn’t meet his gaze, but he nods.

“And-” Derek closes the distance, not by much, just to a point where he can clearly see every freckle on the omega’s face. “If it’s scary for me,” he says, “I can’t imagine how scary it must be for you.”

It’s not an apology, but Stiles sprouts some color on his cheeks, pink and warm and lovely.

“You’re forgiven.”

“Great.”

“Is this sarcasm?”

“Yes, Stiles.”

“Hm.” He slowly smiles, standing on his tip-toes to press a quick peck to Derek’s cheek. “I like it.”

 

✽✽✽

 

Laura’s wedding draws closer, and the tension in the house noticeably thickens, final arrangements being made, last-minute orders being filled. It’s crazy enough for Derek to want to get out for a while, even if it’s just to catch some air.

Stiles likes to join him.

They go out to the clearing a lot, to the tree stump, and Stiles tells Derek stories about his world, where they had one just like it. Theirs was in the field out by his home, and it was an offering ground, holy in every regard, a place where prayers were heard and first kisses were had and magic lived. They called it a Nemeton.

When Stiles takes too long to begin talking again, Derek talks, about himself some, about his father a little, bits and pieces, not nearly as much as Stiles, but he hates the homesick look Stiles gets on his face, the look that says he doesn’t know what to make of where he is or who he is, at least in Derek’s world.

It becomes a routine of sorts, an escape to the woods, where no one and nothing can disrupt who they are when they’re together— _what_ they are. When they’re out there, time stops, and they’re not in Derek’s world or Stiles’. It’s the one place where their worlds are one.

Derek remembers how Stiles got him to talk about his father more than he’d usually allow. He had never told anyone else about that, about how much it really killed him, being the rock, the oldest brother, the alpha, even so many years later, how when his mom started dating Melissa he took it the hardest. But with Stiles, he sort of feels like he can be himself without worrying about looking uncool. After all, the omega doesn’t even know what ‘cool’ is.

 

✽✽✽

 

There’s a wedding in twenty-four hours.

Derek and Stiles come out to their clearing for what will probably be the last time for a while. Derek is prepared, armed with a blanket and wrapped sandwiches and extra apple juice, because Stiles has fallen in love with apple juice, and Derek has fallen in love with-

“Do you really believe in magic?” he asks Stiles, staring up at the night sky, the chill setting in, even in the midst of their California summer.

“Of course,” Stiles replies, like it would be preposterous not to. “Magic is the answer to all we do not know.”

“Some people call that God.”

“This God person needs to spend his time more wisely.”

Derek chuckles, and he turns his head to look at the omega. “You can’t really believe in magic.”

Stiles sighs deeply, breathing in the crisp air. He brings his cup of apple juice to his lips and swallows the last of it, making satisfied noises with his mouth. He turns to Derek. “Magic.” He points up at the stars. “Magic.” He takes another breath, a quick inhale, and slowly rolls onto his side, bringing his lips mere inches from Derek’s, his front pressed up against Derek’s side, a solid line of warmth that Derek can’t ignore. He traces a path with his fingers from Derek’s brow to his temple, down over his cheek, coming to rest against the corner of his mouth. _“Magic,”_ Stiles whispers, and Derek can do nothing other than close the distance with a kiss.

 

✽✽✽

 

“Do you want to mount me?”

Derek pauses, lets the words sink in.

“A more commonly used term would be ‘fuck’.”

But Derek wants to do neither of those things. Derek wants to make love to Stiles, to hold the omega to him, to know every inch of him and for him to know every inch of Derek. Derek wants them to be more than what they are.

And Derek knows that’s asking for too much.

So he holds his hand out, inviting Stiles to his bed so that the omega won’t have to sneak in later in the night. Derek tucks them under the covers, wraps his arms around the boy, and can’t help but notice how well he fits in them.

 

✽✽✽

 

“Hello?”

“Who’s this?”

Stiles had thought that he’d gotten the hang of this whole telephone thing. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking?”

“This is Kate. Put Derek on the phone.”

“He’s bathing.”

“Listen.” The voice is extremely loud, and Stiles is forced to hold Derek’s telephone away from his ear. “I don’t know who you are, or why you have Derek’s phone, but he is my boyfriend, and-” Boyfriend? What is a boyfriend? Perhaps it is something like having an alpha.

“Is he betrothed to you, then?” _I hope not._

“What? No, of course not-”

“Oh, what a relief!” Stiles smiles. “He is my true mate, and you do not sound very nice.”

 _“What?_ Listen, you-”

And then, strangely enough, she calls him a female dog.

 

✽✽✽

 

Stiles has been acting strangely.

He’s been avoiding Derek, almost completely vanishing since all these wedding people have been popping in and out of the house. Derek can’t worry too much, however, because Laura is suddenly in crisis mode, unable to think for herself without eight other opinions becoming necessary, panicking over the littlest details.

When the real time crunch begins, Derek allows himself to worry.

Stiles isn’t in the house. He’s not playing with the kids or anywhere close by. “Derek!” His head snaps over, taking in a disheveled Jackson. “Derek, it’s Stiles!”

“What?” Derek feels his heart in his throat. “What is it?”

Jackson’s lip wobbles. “He said he’s going back.”

Derek is turning and running, running, running, ruining his dress shoes, dirtying his tux, and he keeps running.

“Take me back!”

_No._

“Take me back! I never asked for this!”

“Stiles!”

He’s breathless, standing there, taking in the sight before him—Stiles kneeling upon the tree stump, as beautiful as the day Derek found him. He’s dressed for the wedding as well, in a dress nearly identical to the shift Derek had found him in when he had stumbled upon the omega in this very spot all those weeks ago.

“What are you doing?”

Stiles frowns at him. “What does it look like? I’m going back.”

“Stiles, get down from there.”

“No! You’re a liar and an even bigger idiot! I’m going back!”

Derek runs a hand through his hair. “What are you _talking_ about?”

“Do you take me for a fool?” Stiles looks away. “A girl called your telephone asking for her boyfriend. She was very persistent.”

Derek sighs. He walks up to the tree stump and takes a seat, taking note of the offerings Stiles brought along, which includes, but isn’t limited to, a jug of apple juice that seems to only contain a fourth of its original contents, as opposed to its friend, the greasy takeout bag of curly fries, which is only diminished by about half.

“Have you thrown up yet?”

“That’s beside the point.”

“You’ll make yourself sick.”

“Like you care.”

“I do care, Stiles.” Derek sighs again. “That girl on the phone is my ex. I’m not her boyfriend. I haven’t been for a long time.”

Stiles is quiet for a few heartbeats. “You never told me about her.”

“She’s not exactly worth talking about,” Derek mutters.

Stiles angrily wipes at his eyes. “I miss my old life,” he whispers. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”  
  
Derek folds his hand over Stiles’. “I don’t know, either.” A pause, and then: “But I can think of a thousand reasons why you should stay.” He looks up. “And one really specific reason why I need you to.”

Stiles looks like he might cry, and Derek can’t have that, so he cups Stiles’ face and kisses him, hoping to convey everything he’s so terrible at saying into an eternity of doing just this.

 

✽✽✽

 

Derek can’t stop kissing him.

Not on the walk back, not as Laura and Lydia exchange vows, not at the reception—where they perform their dance routine with minimal injuries—and certainly not in the wee hours of the morning, drunk off endorphins and wedding highs as they stumble into Derek’s room, pulling at every piece of fabric they can find on each other.

“I’ve wanted this since for so long,” Derek sighs into Stiles’ mouth, laying him back on Derek’s bed, touching him everywhere, squeezing his hips, cradling his warm waist, running his hands up over the omega’s ribs, down the line of his back. “I’ve wanted you since the moment we met.”

Stiles tugs at the buttons on Derek’s dress shirt, impatient, makes sighs of frustration against Derek’s jaw, and Derek, ever the obliging alpha, _pulls_ , and buttons fly, his shirt sliding off, and Stiles is free to run his hands all over Derek’s hot skin.

“Magic,” Stiles murmurs into Derek’s ear, runs his fingers over Derek’s broad shoulders, along his solid back, over his chest and down his muscled front. “Magic,” he gasps it again, pulling Derek forward by the belt loops, rucking his dress all the way up his thighs, letting it pool around his waist, showing Derek where he’s already wet and aching and has been waiting for his alpha from the very beginning, helplessly clenching, soaking his thighs. Derek is so distracted that he doesn’t realize Stiles is already unbuckling and shoving his pants down, pulling Derek’s rigid cock free of its confines in one hasty movement. _“Magic,”_ he whispers in awe.

Derek bears down, kicking the last of his clothes all the way off, covering Stiles’ body with his own. He’s about to help Stiles out of his dress when the omega stops him, furiously blushes, and says, “I need it to cover my-” he can’t even mention his own breasts without bringing attention to their...condition. “Just in case.”

Derek could care less, but Stiles seems adamant, so Derek continues elsewhere, mouthing down Stiles’ neck, letting his hand wander down between the omega’s legs.

“Oh,” Stiles sighs, looking puzzled, watching Derek, wide-eyed as the alpha presses the rough pads of his fingers over the omega’s folds, gently rubbing, gathering the wetness there, and he gets what he’s looking for when Stiles throws his head back, hips tilting up to meet Derek’s hand, as he sighs into it. _“Oh.”_ Derek takes himself in hand, letting the head of his cock catch against Stiles’ little hole.

“Tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

Stiles nods, widening his legs, urging Derek on, and so Derek slowly begins pressing forward, letting himself sink in until Stiles is completely filled with him, fingers clenching against Derek’s shoulder blades as he tries to take it all. Derek has to take a moment to calm himself before that thought makes him come undone.

“Alpha?”

Derek presses his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck, breathes him in until his lungs are so full of Stiles he could drown. “Say my name.”

Stiles flushes, cheeks heating up under the alpha’s gaze, marking him all the way down to his collarbone, and Derek begins to thrust, gently at first, building Stiles up, giving him a taste, and soon enough, Stiles is taking every powerful rock, every grunt and nip to his neck, every kiss to his tender lips. He’s throbbing around Derek, holding his alpha inside, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck as their breaths quicken.

“Say my name,” Derek whispers. “Say my name, Stiles.”

Stiles holds fast, grasping for the alpha’s solid form, fingers finding purchase on his shoulders, and he gasps, _“Derek.”_

Derek is shaking apart, hearing his name on Stiles’ lips, and because it’s them, it’s somehow more intimate than being naked, even. It’s enough to make him speed up, push Stiles over the edge right along with him, and make them arch off the mattress together in a moment where, like the woods, like the night sky, like the way their beings are made of the very same nature, they are, for this moment in time, suspended in a place where their worlds are entirely one and the same.

 

✽✽✽

 

“Well, this’ll be a story to tell.”

“Why?”

Derek looks down at Stiles. “Why wouldn’t it be? One day you appeared out of thin air, and thus came to be the greatest love story ever known.”

“I can’t see why anyone wonders anymore.” Stiles sighs. “Is it not clear that there’s something more powerful than any of us at play here?”

Derek closes his eyes.

Stiles leans further in, cheek pillowed against Derek’s chest. “Can you guess what it could be?”

Derek turns his head, and, pressing his lips to the corner of Stiles’ mouth, he grins and whispers, _“Magic.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr](http://bullsnatch.tumblr.com/)!


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